Dreaming of a black Christmas
by cahrenaim
Summary: What are the lengths Regulus Black would go to have a Christmas dinner with his family? Involves a green Christmas, missing invitations and one heck of a flobberworm allergy. Oneshot.


Regulus Black hung the last of the Christmas balls (all in varying shades of green) onto a prickly branch. The branch bowed slightly under the weight and said Christmas ball bobbed joyfully in the true spirit of Christmas. The green concave surface reflected a distorted image of the boy. He continued watching as, in the reflection, a creature of considerably short stature beside him extended a slender finger, giving the branch a sharp tap.

Outwardly, there was no difference. However, when Regulus gave an experimental tug on the ball, the golden thread clutched onto the branch as if it had melded into one.

'Very impressive, Kreacher,' he said, turning to the house elf by his side. What Kreacher had done was to cast a sticking charm onto all the branches that held similar ornaments. Not permanent ones that lined held the portraits that lined the hallways of the Noble House of Black in place. He wanted the Christmas balls to stay in place, not hold on to the end of eternity.

Regulus stepped back to inspect his handiwork.

It was a true blue, or more aptly, true green Slytherin Christmas tree, if there was such a thing. It was the season of sharing and caring- two words that existed in a parallel universe to the world of Slytherin. But the tree looked great. Except...

"Ah, Kreacher"

"Yes, Master Regulus?"

"Remove the tinsel, will you?"

After removing the offending piece of decoration (which of a particularly obnoxious shade of green), no more criticism could be made of the tree.

"Thank you so much, Kreacher. You deserve to have your head on a stick beside your mother. I couldn't have done this without you," it was the biggest compliment he could pay to a house elf in the service of the Noble House of Black.

He meant every word of that. When he had first came home with a grow-it-yourself Christmas tree from Hogsmeade, it was Kreacher's miraculous watering that had saved the withering plant. Which wasn't such a surprise seeing how it had been locked in a boy's luggage beside the socks throughout the journey home. Hell, he was lucky it hadn't disintegrated into a pool of plant mush from the smell.

It was also Kreacher who had diverted all the Christmas invitations to Merlin knows where so that Orion and Walburga Black would actually stay home for Christmas this year. Sirius' flobberworm allergy had also acted up courtesy of Kreacher, giving him a serious rash, much to his chagrin and the amusement of Potter, Lupin and Pettigrew. Mrs Potter had no choice but to exclude Sirius from a skiing trip in the Alps where Flobberworms bred faster because of the cold. Regulus felt bad about his brother, but fear of spending yet another Christmas alone overruled his head.

Kreacher turned away and discreetly dabbed his eyes with the edge of his pillowcase. Dear Merlin, was he crying? Regulus felt responsible to be the one handing him a tissue. Not least because there was no telling what the crust on the pillowcase consisted of, and the horrendous infections that could come out of the simple action.

"Thank you sir. Kreacher must go clean…' His eyes cast around the room desperately looking for an object that he had not polished, cleaned or disinfected. Apparently he had done such a thorough job that he ended off with, "… things. Many things. Kreacher has many things to clean."

"Hold on," Regulus said as he turned to fish a package that was crudely fashioned with cello tape and wrapping paper. "Merry Christmas."

Kreacher clutched the package tightly, his ears trembling with barely suppressed emotions. Then, with a theatrical sob, he apparated, package and all. Regulus had quite a good idea where he had gone to. He could hear the sobs travelling out of the kitchen.

_Good old chap._ Regulus thought to himself as he fiddled with a branch of the tree fondly. He smiled absently. They were going to have dinner as a family. The urge to giggle was rising. He couldn't have asked for a better present. The Nimbus 1990 came pretty close though.

Suddenly, there was a flurry of footsteps down the corridor. The owners of the footsteps emerged at the end of the corridor.

If he had been at Hogwarts, he would have sworn the bloody Baron just walked through him.

It was Mister and Missus Black, in their finest robes. Kreacher followed closely. Regulus noticed a spatula in his hand. Kreacher had wasted no time in unwrapping his present. Already, it had ketchup stains.

"Mother… Father… are you going somewhere?" he asked in a voice of one who was about to see his palns come crashing down about his ears.

"The Goyles sent a last minute invite, Regulus. I wouldn't be there if I had a choice, dear. But you see, somewhere is better than nowhere. Especially on Christmas,' Walburga explained as Kreacher undid the safety charms on the door. Kreacher lowered his eyes apologetically.

Regulus was too distraught to notice. "But… dinner?"

Mrs Black dismissed the worried note in his voice as concern for his stomach. "Kreacher will take care of dinner." With that, she left the house. Mr Black followed suit with a goodbye son. Kreacher scurried after them to see them off.

Regulus groaned and fell head first into the cushions. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Damn the Goyles. Dam them and procrastination. They hadn't even noticed the tree. He heard the gate close and double 'pops' of appartion, and a later, smaller third one as Kreacher returned to the kitchen.

As if on cue, one of the room doors slammed open and Sirius sauntered out. He three himself into a chair and said to no one in particular, "they're out." Then he broke into a grin. "Finally. I thought they were actually going to stay at home for Christmas." He scratched absent-mindedly at his flobberworm rash.

That was the last straw. He could take having his efforts go down the drain. He could take spending another Christmas alone. But he couldn't take his brother saying that.

"What is your problem? Why do you have to act like a jerk?" He snapped, hurling a cushion at Sirius.

"I should be asking you that, Reg," Sirius said, mystified, having caught the pillow effortlessly, tossing it back at him.

"My problem, Sirius, is that you're acting like you down card at all! Like you don't care for this family."

"I'm not acting! If it hasn't been clear enough, let me make it clearer. I really don't care for this family. I'm not family! Remember? I'm not anything!"

"You're my brother! You're important to me! Why can't you see that?"

The cushion was tossed back and forth.

Sirius held the it in front of him like a guard, having been caught off his own guard, all the while scratching his rash.

"Urgh. Forget it. You wouldn't understand," Regulus fell back into the cushions, covering his face with both hands. He could feel the waterworks coming on.

The elder brother caught sight of the Christmas tree. He sat up a little straighter. "You put that up?"

Regulus nodded without removing his hands. He could only be referring to one thing. "I just wanted us to have a dinner together."

"Well um…" Sirius cleared his throat uncomfortably. The sound of scratching became unnaturally loud. "Bloody flobberworms."

"Well…" he started again.

"That's a fetching tree," Sirius tried.

Regulus screwed his eyes close. He didn't want to hear about it. Who called a tree fetching, anyway.

"That's not really what I'm trying to say, but um…" Scratch, scratch, scratch.

"Don't you have an ointment for that rash?"

"Yeah… But look. What I'm trying to say is that… I know there are issues between me and our guardians," he refused to refer to them as Mom and Dad, or parents. "But, I'm sorry if our… animosity has made you feel any less loved. No matter what happens between them, and me, you will always be my brother. There."

Regulus peeked out between his fingers. "Really?"

Sirius looked away. "Yeah… It's not like I have a say in the matter.., but I wouldn't have it any other way. I even have a scar to prove it," he started to roll up his jeans to show the scar which would later be known as the scar that Sirius got trying to fight off three death eaters wandless.

Regulus blushed. "I couldn't help it! I was teething and you stole my chew toy."

"But honestly? I've chose to accept things the way they were, but you tried to change them. And for that, I'm proud to call you my brother." Regulus was bursting with pride. A compliment! A compliment from his older, cooler brother!

A comfortable silence left the both of them to ponder the way things were going to progress from now on.

"Um… do we have to hug or something?" Regulus ventured to ask.

Sirius looked scandalized. "No, no, no! Have you not learned anything from me? Hugging is for girls and wusses. We would be hugging if we were sisters. Guys, we um…grunt in acknowledgement and take it like a man."

"Right. And I'm sure you'd know all about manliness, seeing as how flobberworm rash is so manly and all," he really shouldn't be teasing him, being the one responsible for his plight, but Regulus couldn't help taking a poke at his manly pride.

"Shaddup. You're just a little boy. You don't know anything about it. Merry Christmas little boy," Sirius slapped at his neck irritably.

"Merry Christmas, old man."

Regulus smiled. It was turning out to be better than anything he could have hoped. Oh sure, it could be dinner. But they would be sitting in a stony silence, cutting at their sirloin steaks venomously. And there was always the next year.

Sirius eyed the Christmas tree with suspicion. "Reg, I know I told you it was a fetching tree and all, but… On the account of us being brothers, I would like to make an amendment."

"Sure, but…… OI! I never said you could turn it red! Turn it back!"


End file.
